


An Endless Maze of Living Things

by phoxinus, shadow_lover



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Illustrations, Light Angst, dream quest, literal and figurative fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-13
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-10-25 05:02:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10757247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoxinus/pseuds/phoxinus, https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadow_lover/pseuds/shadow_lover
Summary: He feels light as the breeze, awake and alert and alive, like everything’s okay.That’s how he knows he’s asleep.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NightsMistress](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightsMistress/gifts).



> Thank you, NightsMistress, for the lovely requests! We've reached the 5k finish line, and I hope this is an enjoyable post-race reward :)
> 
> See Chapter Two for illustrations, courtesy of phoxinus.

When Noct opens his eyes, the air is bright and clear. He stands in a wide meadow, where tall grass and golden flowers swish up to his knees. The grass sways in the same breeze that ruffles his hair.

He feels light as the breeze, awake and alert and alive, like everything’s okay.

That’s how he knows he’s asleep.

He breathes in carefully, so he doesn’t choke on the lightness. A shadow tugs at the back of his mind, something dark chasing him from the waking world. Before he can fully remember, a beep from his pocket catches his thoughts.

Even as he grabs his phone, he whirls around, searching—there. A shiver in the tall grass snakes towards him. A familiar fox-like creature emerges from the meadow grass, and Noct drops to his knees.

“Hey, buddy,” he says, grinning, then laughs as Carbuncle bounces closer.

Carbuncle leans up, bracing his little paws on Noct’s knee. His pale blue fur glistens nearly white in the clear sunlight, and there are tiny golden flower petals caught in his ears and tail fluff.

“One second, let me clean you up.” Noct starts brushing the petals from Carbuncle’s ears. It’s a simple task made more difficult by the way Carbuncle leans into the touch. He butts his head against Noct’s fingers like a cat, demanding affection.

Which Noct is happy to give. He forgets the flower petals and contents himself with simply scratching behind Carbuncle’s ears. The little fox spirit is so soft and warm under his fingers, and his build deceptively delicate. He closes his eyes and shivers in happiness. His paws knead gently into Noct’s leg.

After a moment—or half an hour—longer—Carbuncle sighs and pulls away. He chirps again, nodding towards Noct’s hip, and Noct remembers the noise that had first alerted him to his friend’s arrival.

“Sorry about that. Let’s see what you have to say.”

He wiggles the phone out of his pocket and swipes it unlocked. The message is simple: **Hi, Noct!**

He grins. “That’s it? Come on.”

Carbuncle tilts his head. His ruby horn glitters in the light, and he gives a little trill. The phone beeps again.

**Somebody in the forest needs help. Do you want to help them?**

Noct ruffles the fur over Carbuncle’s ears. “Of course. If I can. Can you show me where to go?”

Carbuncle chirps and jumps to his feet. He flicks his tail once before darting away into the tall grass again. Noct scrambles to follow the trail of rustling meadow grass. White and yellow flowers burst as he brushes past them, like tiny fireworks sparkling around his knees. Soon his own clothes and hair are scattered with petals, just like Carbuncle’s fur. He doesn’t mind.

It’s been a long time since Carbuncle led him on a dream quest. Years, maybe, though he isn’t so good at telling time from this side of sleep. The landscape changes every dream. He’s never seen this meadow before, or the tall, green and gold forest that now surrounds him where before there was only blue sky. But he’s seen meadows like it, and he likes them. Carbuncle likes to lead him through comfortable places. 

He holds tight to the sleek, silver cell phone as they jog into the forest proper. Carbuncle bounds from the meadow grass. When he shakes himself, his pale fur ruffles, and most of the petals fall off. He moves so lightly his footsteps are inaudible even as he trots over the dry twigs and leaves that make up the forest floor.

Noct, meanwhile, rattles through the underbrush. He nearly runs into a tree, which he swears wasn’t there a second ago.

He likes the forest. When he’s awake, he likes the forests too. Not the muggy heat as they near the marshes, or the leaves and dirt that always find their way under his clothes, making him gross and itchy by the time they make camp. But he likes running through an endless maze of living things, with birds singing overhead. Sometimes he wishes he could explore the wild world under happier skies. When there wasn’t—

Carbuncle trills ahead of him, his voice lighter and clearer than the birdsong above, and Noct shakes his head. In the dream, all that matters is the quest ahead. In the dream, the golden light filtering from above doesn’t burn too hot through his jacket. The dirt and leaves remain below and above, where they belong.

He jogs after Carbuncle, curious where they’re going and who they’ll see. He trusts Carbuncle not to lead him astray, and to warn him of danger—just like, when awake, he trusts his friends.

They emerge into another clearing. The trees above spread so wide and thick, the foliage canopy still stretches across the open space. One tree stands in the center of the clearing: a tower that stretches up and up. Wisps of clouds swirl beneath and between its highest branches.

Noct skids to a halt, dry leaves swirling around his knees. He thinks he sees a flash of yellow high above, but it’s gone the next moment. 

He glances down at Carbuncle, who waits poised in front of him. “Is this where we’re going?”

Carbuncle nods. His ears flick daintily towards the tree, where a familiar figure stands between the massive roots.

Prompto’s hair gleams like sunbeams. His hands are on his hips, and he’s staring upwards. He doesn’t seem to hear Noct’s approach until he’s right there, close enough to see the freckles on his nose and the worry in his brow.

“What’s wrong?” Noct asks.

Prompto jumps. “It’s you!” He grabs Noct by the shoulders, blue eyes wide. “Just the man I need—my Noct in shining armor!”

Noct stumbles back, but Prompto’s already gone again, straining to peer upwards. He doesn’t look injured. Noct has gotten good at spotting injuries.

“What’s going on?” he tries again.

Off to the side, Carbuncle hops up onto a tree root. He races lightly along it, until he sits just at the trunk, and looks back at both of them.

Prompto sighs. His worry melts into a happy glow, and his smile curls warm. “We were dancing,” he says dreamily. “Noct, man, you should have seen her. You’ve never seen anyone so soft and beautiful. I think she liked me!”

“Cindy?” Noct asks, though he wouldn’t personally describe Cindy as soft.

Prompto shakes his head. “I don’t know. Maybe? She didn’t say her name. We were just dancing, and then we spun around and around, and she landed in the tree.”

He points, his whole body following into the gesture, towards the canopy. Noct catches another flash of yellow. He worries about this woman caught in a tree, though he wonders also if she had flown into the tree as a means of escaping the dance. Noct knows Prompto’s dancing skills very well; they’re rudimentary at best, and his enthusiasm only counts for so much.

“How did she get all the way up there?”

Prompto shrugs. “The tree was smaller at first. Then it grew. Noct, please, you have to save her.”

“Fine, fine. Hold onto your panties.”

Noct concentrates, then warps into the tree top.

It isn’t like warping when awake. It’s a slow, sedate glide upwards. He has time to look down and see Prompto and Carbuncle vanishing into little pinpricks beneath him. Light blossoms around him, and when he sighs, the sparks eddy in his breath.

He lands on a wide tree branch. This would be a good place to camp, if he had a tent. He’s growing to like camping, though he’d never admit it to Gladio. Out in the wilderness, there are no radios. No news of Insomnia to prick his ears and heart. No news of—

A flash of yellow, and he whirls after it. He warps to the next branch up, and the next, and at last he sees her: a baby chocobo, perched on a branch.

She fluffs her feathers and fixes Noct with her dark, glimmering eyes, then returns to pecking at the massive tree trunk.

Well. This makes more sense than Prompto dancing with an actual human. Noct wonders if Prompto dances with chocobos in his own dreams, too, or just here.

“Hey there,” he calls. “I’m coming over there. Stay still.”

The chocobo cocks her head at him. He takes a deep breath and warps over.

But as he glides over in slow motion, the chocobo takes wing and flutters past him. When he lands at his destination, he turns to see the chocobo perched on the branch he’s just left.

“Come on,” he groans.

She squawks in reply, then hops up and onto the branch above.

He isn’t sure whether baby chocobos can fly, generally, but she evidently can. The tree is still too high for her. He needs to bring her safely back to Prompto. “Will you stay still for a minute?”

In response, she hops to the next branch over. Noct groans again, then jumps. His phone beeps. He leans against the tree trunk, steadying himself against the warm, living wood, and swipes his screen.

**You won’t catch up if you’re just chasing where she’s been!**

“Right,” he mutters. He stares at the chocobo, frowning, then braces himself. He can’t warp to where she’s _been_ , so he has to—

The chocobo takes flight, launching from the branch above and to Noct’s left. He focuses, aims for a branch _past_ her trajectory, and leaps. The wind whistles through his hair, and he stretches his arms—

They meet in midair, and he scoops her up in his arms on his way. When he lands on the branch, he has a warm, feathery bundle squirming in his arms.

She pecks his shoulder a bit too hard, and he flinches.

“No,” he scolds, stroking through her feathers. She calms at the touch, wiggling closer to him, and tucks her head in against his chest. He sighs and holds her just a bit tighter. She’s so warm, so sweet, and Prompto’s right. He’s never felt anyone so soft, except maybe Carbuncle.

He remembers his friends waiting down below. Right. His quest continues; he has to move on. “Hang on,” he tells the chocobo. She squirms, and her feathers tickle his forearms. 

The ground is very far away; he could make it in one leap if he were on his own, but he’s mindful of his feathery cargo. He arcs from branch to branch until he lands in a flurry of leaves at the base of the tree.

“Princess!” Prompto cries, lunging forward. “You saved her!”

Unsure which of them is supposed to be the princess, Noct reluctantly hands the fluffy bundle over. She stretches out her wings, sending feathers flying, and settles into Prompto’s arms. The incandescent glow on Prompto’s face—the sheer bright width of his grin as he stares into the chocobo’s dark, knowing eyes—is nearly enough to make up for the sudden loss of warmth.

Then Prompto looks up, and his blinding grin encompasses Noct too. Noct staggers with the force of it—and with the sudden leech-like embrace. Prompto lurches onto him with a speed that makes Noct wonder if _he_ can warp in this dream.

Prompto’s arm is warm and heavy around his shoulders, and the baby chocobo’s warm and fluffy in between them. Noct goes rigid. Maybe it’s just dream-time screwing up his perception again, but he can’t remember the last time anyone hugged him. He closes his eyes, overcome, and gingerly brings his hands up to rest on Prompto’s shoulderblades. He doesn’t dare hold any tighter, for fear they’ll vanish from his grasp.

Vanish like—

His phone beeps. Prompto and Princess don’t vanish, but they do pull away.

“What is it, Carbuncle?”

 **You did it!** the message reads. **But there are more people who need your help.**

Noct sighs. He’d like to stay with Prompto and the chocobo longer. He glances at Prompto, who’s still _grinning_ and rubbing his nose in the chocobo’s crested head. Her claws are entwined with one of his hands. 

Carbuncle darts over to Noct’s feet, peering up, and the phone beeps. **Do you want to stay longer?**

“No,” Noct says reluctantly. “If someone needs help, of course I have to go.”

Carbuncle leaps away. **Then follow me!**

“Later,” Noct says to Prompto. He has to run to chase after Carbuncle. When he glances over his shoulder, he sees the chocobo has grown; she’s taller than Prompto, and when she nudges him around, he laughs. Noct still hears the mingled laughter and squawks as he chases Carbuncle into the forest.

Carbuncle is a streak of shimmering white as the forest floor darkens. Then crackling leaves give way to the tap-tap of little paws on asphalt. They jog along a wide, straight roadway, and the forest is far behind them. The sky above is day’s pale blue, yet full of stars.

They come across an island in the middle of the road. The lanes curve around the small, rocky hill. It reminds Noct of a haven, except smaller, lacking protective sigils, and oddly jutting up in the middle of the road. Smoke rises upwards, obscuring the figure moving at the top.

Noct climbs up the island and is unsurprised to find Ignis pacing beside a smoking, spitting campfire. A tower of pots and pans rises beside it, as tall as Ignis himself. The wind sings and whistles through and around the cookware.

He can’t tell what’s wrong. Ignis has his glasses, and he’s uninjured. His clothing is improbably pristine, as usual.

 _Maybe he’s lost his chocobo dance partner too?_ Surely not, but the dream has been weird enough already. 

“Hey, Iggy,” Noct says.

Ignis turns, and sags in relief. “Thank goodness. You’ve made it just in time,” he says. “I’m about to die.”

“ _What?_ ” Fear flashes cold through Noct’s veins. He looks down at Carbuncle, who just flicks his tail. He doesn’t look nearly panicked enough. “What’s wrong?”

Now that he’s looking closer, Ignis does look worse for the wear. He’s paler than usual, and dark circles shadow his eyes. His mouth and brows draw tight with—pain? 

“Tell me, Iggy.” Noct can’t quite keep his voice from shaking. “What’s wrong? What can I do?”

Ignis closes his eyes and breathes unsteadily. Was his face always so thin and haggard? When he opens his eyes, they’re red-rimmed and bloodshot. “I’m out of Ebony,” he says distantly. “I’m going through withdrawals.”

“What,” Noct says.

He refrains from saying, _That’s it?_ But he thinks it loudly enough that Carbuncle chirps reproachfully. Noct sighs. “Right. Where’s the nearest gas station? Or a Crow’s Nest?”

“There’s nothing but sorrow for miles and miles.” Ignis lifts a shaky hand and rests shaky fingers to his temple. 

“Um,” Noct says. “That’s just the withdrawal talking. Probably. There’s gotta be a rest stop somewhere at least.” 

“Life,” Ignis bemoans, “is an empty cup, rattling along an endless, empty road.”

Noct stares helplessly at Carbuncle. “What do I do?”

But his phone remains silent. Right. Ignis is _his_ friend. He has to help him. “Have you searched in all the pots?”

“I keep the Ebony in my backpack.” Ignis’s eye twitches. “Not in the pots.”

“Let’s look anyway.”

Noct moves to the tower of cookware. The wind’s song is louder, and reminds him of sitting up on the back of the Regalia. Face tilted up to savor the breeze, to catch the sun, with the metal warm beneath him and his friends at his side. The only thing better would be if Carbuncle could ride along with them too.

He reaches for the topmost pot: a lidless saucepan. He lifts it carefully, on his tiptoes to make sure he doesn’t disturb the whole pile as he removes it, then sinks back on his heels to inspect it. No Ebony inside. He sets it down at his feet and reaches for the next pot, and then the next. After a moment, Ignis moves to his side and begins to help.

They don’t find coffee, but they find other things. They find cactuar figurines, romance novels, and a moogle plushie. Ignis finds a skull-patterned cloth for cleaning his spectacles. Noct finds a length of black silk ribbon. It feels soft as spun shadows between his fingers, and he kneels to the ground holding it.

“Here, Carbuncle,” he calls.

Carbuncle somersaults over, then holds very still and lets Noct tie the ribbon around his neck. Noct tugs and adjusts silk until the bow fluffs up, and he twists it to a jaunty angle over Carbuncle’s shoulder. Against the sleek fur, the fabric shimmers, star-strewn.

**Thank you, Noct!**

Noct just smiles, and rejoins Ignis in searching the tower of cookware.

Most pots are empty. Noct stays methodical and careful, but Ignis grows more frantic as the tower dwindles. Eventually, they’ve searched the last pot, and they stand in a maze of cookware strewn across the roadway island. Carbuncle bats a silver bangle around on the sun-warmed stone, and Noct sits on an upturned cauldron.

Ignis resumes his pacing. His face is even paler. “I’m afraid it’s too late,” he says, voice hushed. “I wanted to continue on. I wanted to see you safe to Altissia.”

“You’re not actually dying.”

“To see you become the king you’re meant to be,” Ignis sighs.

“Ignis.”

“But it’s too late for me. Leave me here. Continue on.”

“No. Ignis. I’m not leaving you.” He scrubs his hands through his hair. He has to think. He can’t stand seeing Ignis like this. He’s used to being taken care of by him, not the other way around. How can he support Ignis? How can he give Ignis what he needs? It’s not like the magic they both draw on—

Or is it? Noct stands abruptly. He furrows his brow in concentration, thinks— _coffee_ —and throws out his hand. In the next breath, in a shower of fireworks, his palm closes around smooth, warm metal.

Ignis’s jaw drops.

“Here you go,” Noct says, and hands the thermos over.

Ignis takes it, cracks open the lid, and inhales. His eyelids flutter with the scent. He doesn’t drink yet, though. He meets Noct’s eyes, deadly serious through his sun-glinting spectacles, and says, “Thank you, Noct. You’re astounding.”

Noct rubs the back of his head. “It’s nothing.”

“I don’t think we say it enough,” Ignis continues quietly. And then he pulls Noct into a tight hug.

Noct grunts in surprise, stiffening for a moment before relaxing. He isn’t sure what to do with his hands, so he just leaves them at his side. Ignis has always been the least touchy of them—not that he’s distant, but—Noct doesn’t expect this from him.

He likes it, though. Ignis is warm, solid. The metal thermos pressing against Noct’s back is not nearly as hot as the sudden joy in Noct’s heart.

“I just don’t want to go on without you,” Noct mumbles into his shoulder.

Ignis squeezes him closer. “You won’t have to.”

When Ignis lets go, Noct stumbles back. His heel hits a saucepan, which clatters across the rocky island and over the edge. “Ugh. Anyway, uh, enjoy your coffee. I think Carbuncle and me gotta hit the road.”

Carbuncle hops on top of the nearest pot, tiny feet ringing on the steel, and swishes his tail.

“What happened to not going on without me?” Ignis asks.

“Um.” He’d like to take Ignis, but he has a sense that isn’t how the dream quest works. “I’m just taking a detour. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Ignis frowns. “Very well. Be careful, Noct.” He opens the thermos again and finally takes a sip. His face opens up like a flower blooming, like the sun rising, like—well, the moan he makes is downright inappropriate.

“Yeah, time to go,” Noct mutters.

He jumps off the edge of the island, lands hard, and dusts off his knees. Carbuncle dives after him. The black bow around his neck ruffles in the breeze, along with his silky fur.

“I’m guessing Gladio’s next?” Noct says, grabbing his phone.

Carbuncle nods. **This way!**

He takes off down the road. As Noct runs after him, he can’t help lingering on the hug from Ignis, and his words. He doesn’t think he would have conjured that from his own imagination. As the road narrows and the sky above bruises, he asks, “It’s not really them, right?”

Carbuncle slows down. **What do you mean?**

“I mean, this is a dream. I know that. But I don’t know. It feels different.”

They trot silently for a long moment. The stars above brighten as the sky deepens, and long, silvery fish swim between them, riding the wind currents. Finally, Noct’s phone beeps again.

**They’re dreaming too. I don’t usually do this, but since they’re connected to you, I can sometimes bring them in.**

The ground crunches under Noct’s boots. There’s sand on the road. “Why did you do it tonight?”

 **You need it.** Carbuncle’s tail swishes. **So do they. Come on! We’re almost there.**

Carbuncle speeds up again when they reach the beach. He moves lightly even over the shifting sands, while Noct slows down and pinwheels his arms to stay upright. The night has fallen absolute now, but the beach scene is still clearly lit by the stars and the silvery fish and the golden campfire dead ahead.

Gladio sits in the sand, with his arms draped over his knees, watching the fire. He’s barefoot and shirtless, and his skin and scars and ink all gleam in the firelight. It flickers all over him, a constant play of motion over his utterly still frame.

He doesn’t look up when Noct approaches, but when Noct stands at his shoulder, he says, “Hey.”

There’s something restrained about his voice that Noct hasn’t heard before. Noct looks around to try to see what’s wrong, but all he sees is the waves in the night. “Hey,” he says back. “Is anything wrong?”

Gladio sighs. “Nothing’s wrong. Everything’s going how it’s supposed to go.”

Noct shifts his weight, glancing at Carbuncle for help. But Carbuncle just looks at him, eyes dark, and Noct sighs as well. Just like warping to save Prompto’s chocobo, or pulling Ignis’s coffee out of the Armiger, whatever’s wrong with Gladio will something only Noct can help.

Still. It would be a lot easier if Gladio at least gave him a hint.

“You sure?” he asks quietly.

Gladio’s answer, after a long moment, is even quieter. A low rumble nearly swept away by the sea and the breeze. But Noct hears it, as clearly as if Gladio’s lips are pressed to his ear: “The first time I went camping was with my dad.”

The wind stops blowing. The fish stop swimming overhead. The fire freezes, motionless licks of light. The ocean itself pauses, hushed, between waves. There it is: the shadow that’s been dogging his footsteps through the dreamscape.

His father is dead.

Gladio’s father is dead too. And now Noct is supposed to _do_ something. To make it better. But he doesn’t know what, and his heart hurts too much to breathe. To think. He can’t make this better.

He blinks at the ground, face ducked away from Gladio, and fights for composure.

Carbuncle steps silently forward. He’s the only moving thing in the night, until he sits still at Noct’s feet, and presses his shoulder against Noct’s boot.

The faint pressure is just enough to break Noct from his paralysis. He mutters, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Gladio shrugs. “Not really.”

“Okay.”

That’s better, anyway, because Noct doesn’t know what he would say. But he’s still out of options. What else can he do? He clenches his jaw, pulling strength from Carbuncle’s presence, and every memory he has of Gladio standing at his side.

He thumps down in the sand next to his friend. He wraps his arms around his knees too, but unlike Gladio, he doesn’t stare into the fire—just the cold, silvery sand between his feet. From the corner of his eye, he sees Carbuncle hop closer to the fire and curl up, tail tucked over his nose.

For what feels like hours, the only movement is their bodies, rising and falling with every breath. Carbuncle’s long ears twitch sometimes, and his paws sink into the sand, half-buried.

 _I’m sorry._ Noct’s throat twists around words he knows Gladio won’t accept. _It’s my fault. I’m so sorry._ He bites his tongue and remains silent, wracking his brain for something more to say, something more to do.

All he can do is sit there.

The fire moves first. A flicker, a shiver, and it crackles back to life. The breeze picks up after, and with it the little fish winding their way through cloudy currents.

At last the ocean swells again. The next wave crashes, and the seafoam hisses up towards their fire, and Gladio says, “Thanks.”

Noct jerks up. “For what?”

He hasn’t fixed anything. He’s been too busy worrying over not being able to. 

“Just for being there. For being you.”

“Any time.” Noct intends it to be lighthearted, but the words leave his lips as a promise.

The honesty’s worth it for the grin cracking Gladio’s face. A smile like a scar, hard-won. “Careful. I’ll hold you to that.”

He heaves a sigh, warm arm brushing against Noct’s. 

Noct’s phone beeps as Carbuncle sits up. There’s sand in his fur, and his ears are pricked alert. Noct wiggles the phone out of his pocket, and reads: **Good job, Noct! But before you wake up, there’s one more person.**

“What? Who?”

Gladio grunts. “Did you say something?”

“Nah, it’s nothing.” Noct scrambles to his feet. Gladio hasn’t looked up; he’s staring into the fire again. Only now, he’s got half a smile playing on his lips, and his shoulders are loose and relaxed. Noct thinks he can leave him now. “See you in the morning.”

“See you,” Gladio promises.

Noct brushes the sand off his ass, and trudges after Carbuncle. His footsteps feel even heavier in the sand now, like he’s weighed down. They walk south, along the coastline, and the sand is damp beneath his boots.

Their fathers are dead.

When he and Carbuncle are far enough away that he thinks the sound of the ocean will cover up his voice—when he glances over his shoulder and the campfire’s vanished in a slow-rolling fog—Noct asks, “Will he remember that?”

 **None of them will remember the dream,** reads the phone screen. **But they’ll still know, deep down.**

“Good. That’s good.”

Noct yawns. He’s getting tired. Even here, when he’s asleep, he gets tired. Sometimes he wonders if he’ll be tired until he dies. He wonders what else he has to do tonight. He’s helped all his friends already.

The moon is bright and full above. It sinks slowly towards his right as they walk down the beach. Carbuncle gleams; backlit by moonlight, his fur is dark and silvered. The moon is so near and so large that the beach is nearly as bright as daylight. It illuminates their destination: a wooden pier stretching out into the water. 

Noct grins, and speeds up. Carbuncle trots more quickly, ears bouncing.

There’s no bait and tackle shop here. The city lights in the distance are gone. There’s just Noct and Carbuncle and the sea, and the fog behind them, and the wild moon before them. Noct’s boots thunk against the wooden planks. The pier is long and narrow. It shouldn’t be so stable, stretching so far out into the depths, but when it rocks, Noct keeps his balance.

At the end of the pier, he kneels and unlaces his boots. He has to pause when his phone beeps.

**What are you doing?**

“What does it look like?” He sits back—the wooden planks are damp and cold through his pants, but he doesn’t care—to yank his boots off. He pulls his socks off too, and tucks them into the boot-tops. Even in a dream, it feels wrong to just toss them in the ocean.

**Aren’t you going to fish?**

Noct hesitates, and twists over to look at Carbuncle. The creature sits at the very edge of the pier, tail curled around himself. His fur’s gone rough with sand, and the dusty search through pots and pans before that, and there are still flowers and dead leaves caught in his ear fluff. Every bit and speck is crystal-clear in the moonlight.

Carbuncle knows him like nobody else does. He’s sheltered Noct through nightmares and guided him through dreams. Noct warms through at the sight of him, and the awe that this ineffable creature, who always gives and never asks, has chosen _him_.

Noct is supposed to save the world. He doesn’t know how he’ll do it, when he couldn’t even save one city, or one man. But until he figures it out, he can do a little to help his friends.

“Nah. Not tonight.” He shuffles onto his knees and beckons. “Get over here.”

Carbuncle tilts his head. His whiskers twitch. **You have to take care of yourself too. You’re going to wake up soon.**

“I know,” Noct says. “But this whole dream—you already helped me. As much as anything could.”

Carbuncle slinks closer. His ears pin close to his head and neck. He gives a quiet chirp, and the next message seems to take longer to download.

**But you’re still so sad.**

Noct sighs. His chest hurts. It always does. Little by little, he’s getting used to it. “Yeah,” he admits. “And you’re not gonna fix that tonight. But it… It means a lot that you tried.”

He reaches out, feels magic flickering along his veins, and draws two items from the Armiger. They’re thin enough he holds them both in one hand: a fine-toothed comb, and a velvet-soft brush.

“Get over here,” he says again.

Carbuncle perks his ears, seeing the comb and brush. He bounces over, practically vibrating with excitement. **Noct!** reads the phone. **Really?**

“Yeah,” Noct says, grinning slightly, as Carbuncle settles himself close, sitting with his back to him.

Noct sets the soft brush down and starts with the comb. First, he works it gently through Carbuncle’s tail. The fur is as soft as clouds against Noct’s fingers. He moves very gently. He knows Carbuncle is strong, way more powerful than he is, but even so, he wants to be careful. When there’s a knot, he works the comb through slowly, holding tight above it so he doesn’t jerk the fur. The comb teeth catch little bits of sand and fallen leaves and a few golden flower petals, until they scatter around them on the pier.

He combs through the shorter fur Carbuncle’s haunches and sides. There’s less debris caught there, but he takes his time anyway. As the teeth scratch over his skin, Carbuncle shivers a little in delight.

“Does that feel good?”

Carbuncle just leans into the next stroke. 

Noct trades the comb for the brush. He loses himself in smoothing out the soft fur, buffing it out until Carbuncle gleams. The little fox’s eyes stay closed, and his ears fall relaxed. His tail curls around his paws. The tip of it flicks in pleasure every so often. 

By the time Noct’s done, Carbuncle’s muscles have loosened under his fingers. Noct feels looser too. Lighter. It’s nice to do something that matters, that makes someone happy, even in such a small way. Just like he helped all his friends. It’s proof he isn’t completely helpless as his destiny opens like a chasm before him.

His phone beeps. He sets the brush down and picks it up. Carbuncle turns to look at him as he swipes open the message:

❤

Noct grins, and ducks his head. His eyes sting for a moment. “Yeah,” he mumbles. “Same.”

He’s not surprised when Carbuncle pounces; he sits back and opens his arms and catches his friend. Carbuncle leans up, bracing his paws on Noct’s chest, and Noct laughs louder than he has in ages—the little nose and whiskers _tickle_ under his chin. He holds Carbuncle around the belly, feels the gentle rise and fall of his ribs. Keeping a careful grip on his friend, Noct scoots closer to the end of the pier, so he can unfold his legs over the edge. His bare feet sink into the water.

Carbuncle settles into his lap, warm and soft and there, like always. His chin rests lightly on Noct’s knee, and he sighs, the most contented sound Noct has ever heard.

Noct sighs too. He kicks his feet slowly through the cool water. Streaks of light veer away from him—the same silver fish that swam through the sky. He strokes Carbuncle’s back, and with his other hand pushes his hair out of his eyes so he can look up at the stars.

When he wakes up, he’ll still have the world to face. But for now, he can hold his friend close, and dream that he’s happy.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Illustrations by phoxinus.

_and there are tiny golden flower petals caught in his ears and tail fluff._

[[full size](https://68.media.tumblr.com/a5f62b2c5bb3ecc3f41afbfd9f4c3b2f/tumblr_opx662MMtp1ucqfluo1_1280.png)]

 

 

_She fluffs her feathers and fixes Noct with her dark, glimmering eyes_

[[full size](https://68.media.tumblr.com/d87988192348ffafd78ce58a1c863291/tumblr_opxchcWH0p1ucqfluo1_1280.png)]

 

 

_Against the sleek fur, the fabric shimmers, star-strewn._

[[full size](https://68.media.tumblr.com/4df020e23177dce113fb82acb5e2b59d/tumblr_opx9h1wDYG1ucqfluo1_1280.png)]


End file.
